A Comforting Gesture
by HaganeNoWriter
Summary: We all know that storms and metal limbs on a teenager don't make for a good combination. When the weather turns bad, Mustang's team is there to help to provide the comfort necessary to help Ed get back on his feet. Parental! RoyxEd Fluff.


A/N: Hello! This is my first story on this sight! This is a Parental RoyxEd story. I won't write Yaoi. Sorry. I also have this story on my Quotev account. My name is HaganeNoWriter. ENJOY!

Rain. That's the first thing I hear when I open my eyes. I wouldn't necessarily call laying on the covers, trying to ignore aching automail ports sleeping.

I sit up and gently massage my right shoulder, where the flesh and steel meet. I close my eyes and sigh, as this only provides minimal and temporary relief, but I should be grateful. At least I can feel pain at all. I'll give you three guesses for who I'm referring to.

As soon as I remove my hand from the port, it begins to throb and ache once more. I gaze outside of the window if the military dorms. Pouring rain, and ominous, dark clouds still approaching. Not a good day for somebody with automail. Nevertheless, I am a dog of the military. I have orders to follow. One of those orders being delivering his report to the obnoxious colonel.

Al and I had just gotten back from traveling near Western Command, following a lead about the Philosopher's Stone. The lead turned out to be a bust, and a wasted, four hour train ride there and back. I couldn't really remember much when we got back to the dorms. I was really tired and out if it. Al was practically dragging me back to the dorm.

Well, no use in avoiding it. Might as well just suck it up and hand in my report. I dress myself in my normal attire; my black, long sleeve shirt, leather pants, red cloak, and black and red platform boots. I also clip my pocket watch onto my belt loop, and proceed to brush my soft, golden hair. After I get all of the tangles out of the flowing, golden locks, I quickly twist it into a neat braid.

I walk from the bedroom of the dorm, and find a note on the door.

It read:

_"Good morning, Brother. I was thinking of possible theories about the Philosopher's Stone all night. I'm going to the library. I'll tell you if I find anything._

_~Al_

_P.S. Remember to turn in your report on time."_

I smiled at the letter, picked up my report on my way out.

On my way to the Colonel's office, I stop by the library and poke my head inside. I immediately see Al's armor at a nearby table, situated in a nest of books. I'm sure if Al could show emotion, his face would be one of pure concentration. I smile sadly to myself, remembering why he couldn't do such things, and continue my quest to give my report.

I finally reach the Colonel's office, and let loose a deep sigh. Might as well get this over with. I open the door, and I see everybody quietly doing their work. Ok, this is strange. There is usually a dispute about people NOT doing their paperwork. Something's off.

"Hello, Edward. Here to give your report?" Hawkeye greets me, looking up from her paperwork.

"Yes, Sir. " I say as I walk up to the colonel's desk.

"Hello, pyromaniac." I say with a slight smirk, trying to lighten the mood in the room. I sloppily place my report on his desk.

"Hello, Fullmetal." Mustang says with an emotionless face.

"What, no short jives today?" I ask, trying to get at least a short reference out of him. He ignores my question. I walk over to one of the couches, and it down. The Colonel looks over my report.

"Fullmetal, what exactly do you call this?" He asks in an annoyed tone, flipping the report around and showing it to me.

"That is my report. What else would I give you?" I ask.

"I can barely read this chicken-scratch, and I really don't want to listen to an oral report from you. Especially since you seem to have the vocabulary equivalent to that of a sailor. There is a pen and a pad of paper on the couch. Get writing." The Colonel said with a _clearly_ aggravated voice.

"Fine. I should have expected this from you." I muttered to myself. The reason that my handwriting has been so bad isn't simply because I wanted to piss the Colonel off, but my automail ports have been aching for the past few days from rainy weather that seemed to never want to end. It's kinda hard to keep your hand steady when your shoulder and knee are throbbing uncontrollably. With every downpour, it seems like the pressure in my ports were getting worse, like the pressure would eventually become too much strain for my body to handle.

I grabbed the pad of paper and started to write down the events of my search for the stone. Although, every few minutes I had to keep stopping to try to loosen up the muscles in my right shoulder. About a half-hour had passed, and I had only copied the first page of the three-page report.

"Fullmetal, give me the report." The Colonel said, his eyes not leaving his paperwork. Not wanting to make him angrier, I obliged. I started to walk over to his desk, when a bolt of lightning struck in a bright display outside the office. The pain in my ports exploded with pain. I clenched my teeth to prevent a scream, and fell, resting on my right knee. I dropped the report, as my left hand was occupied clutching my right shoulder.

"Chief!" I hear somebody in the room yell. Probably Havoc or Breada. I can't distinguish the voices around me, as my mind is blinded from the painful sensation in my limbs. I feel a hand on my left shoulder. The pain keeps growing, and I can't take it anymore. My vision becomes fuzzy, and I collapse on the ground. I blacked out.

* * *

I feel like I'm waking up, but my mind is still fuzzy. I feel really tired, but I can't seem to fall back asleep. The pain in my ports is gone. My mind registers that I am on a soft surface. Definitely not the floor that I collapsed on. Maybe one of the couches in Mustang's office? I'm far too tired to care. I also feel something cool drag across my forehead. I slowly open my eyes, and wait for my vision to clear. I'm still in Mustang's office from what I can make out from the background. I see the members of Mustang's team huddling around me. Lieutenant Hawkeye is closest to me, and wiping my forehead with a cold rag. They see me open my eyes, and their faces reflect concern.

"Hey, Chief. Are you okay?" Lieutenant Havoc asks me. Instead of answering, I try to sit up. This proves to be difficult when I notice that my automail has been detached. Fuery moves behind me, and pushed my back, helping me sit up.

"Yeah, I'm fine." I whisper. Hawkeye takes the rag off of my forehead.

"Who took off my Automail?" I asked, looking around the room.

"I did. I took a class about Automail at the Military Academy." Fuery said, looking shy. "You looked like it was hurting you, so I took it off."

"Oh, thanks. Can you hand them to me? I think I can put them back on." I tell Fuery.

"Yeah, of course!" He replies, laying my prosthetics on the couch next to me. I take my leg, and line it up with the port. It snaps on and I move to connect my nerves. I pull the lever, and shock explodes through my body. I throw my head back, and clench my teeth, biting back a scream. I wait a minute to recover, before I pick up my arm, and snap it in place. I repeat the process of flipping the lever, and brace myself again. A second wave courses through my neck and torso. My hearing, once again, becomes muffled, but I don't care. My teammates had to see me in a moment of weakness. All I really care about is getting out of the room. I stand up, and start to walk out the door. The pain from my nerves isn't completely gone, but I keep going, ignoring the concerned faces in the room. I almost get to the door, when I hear…

"Fullmetal! What are you doing?" Mustang calls to me. I had almost forgotten he was there. Great, I showed weakness in front of _him_, too. I stop, with my hand on the doorknob, but I don't look back.

"Ed, you're in pain. Come here." He says without the usual commanding tone in his voice. I comply with his wishes, and slowly walk over to him. He sits on the couch, and gestures for me to do the same. I do. He then gestures me to turn around, so my back is facing him. I don't know what he's trying to accomplish, but I obey. He then gently placed his hands on my right shoulder, and begins to massage, loosening up the muscles in my shoulder around my automail.

The stiffness in my shoulders completely disappears, and it feels as though my bones are melting. I manage to swallow my pride, and lean into Mustang's warm hands. After a while, my sleepiness returns to me, and I lean back against Mustang's frame. I ended up with my head situated in his lap. I was close enough to him that I could hear the man's heartbeat. There I lay, turned on my side, laying on my left shoulder. I curl up my body a bit, and eventually begin to fall asleep. Not even caring that everybody in the office was staring at us. Mustang shrugs his military coat off of his shoulders, and covers me. Also placing his hand upon my back, rubbing comfortingly. I take a deep breath, and the scent of charcoal and cologne fills my nose. I fall asleep.

I start to wake up slowly, but I don't want to open my eyes yet. I start to hear shuffling and whispering around me, but I don't move. I'm way too comfortable to be moving just yet. The body I am leaning against moves continuously in deep, even breaths, letting out soft snores with every inhale, suggesting that he is asleep. I shift a bit, and pull the jacket tighter around me. I also snuggle my head closer to the warmth that allowed me rest. As I do this, the whispers get slightly louder, but stay relatively quiet.

"Hmmm." I hear Mustang mumble. The vibrations travel down his chest and into my ear. He must have woken up. Suddenly, I feel the hand that had been laying on my back lift itself, and begin to stroke my hair. The gesture is comforting, and feels great on my scalp. I hear the man yawn, and he leans so his mouth is by my ear.

"Fullmetal, Wake up. We have an audience." He says into my ear. Confused by this statement, I force my eyes open. Immediately, I see that everybody in Mustang's team were still staring at us. Additionally, Lieutenants Ross and Brosh were standing in the doorway, and Hughes was grinning like a madman, taking pictures from all around the room.

Unpleased with the attention, I get up from my ridiculously comfortable position, and stand up. I stretch my arms, and my hair falls out of its messy braid. Annoyed, I walk out of the office, pushing past all of the other officers lined up in the hall. Mustang's coat still on my shoulders.

* * *

**[Mustang's POV]**

After Fullmetal left the room, I walked over to Hughes, who was flipping through the pictures he had apparently taken while they were asleep.

"Hughes, how long have you been there?" I asked, still a bit groggy from waking up.

"Oh, I've been here for about an hour. I got some really good shots of you two. Here, this is the best one." He held out a picture to me. Within this image was Fullmetal sleeping on my lap, while my hand was resting on his back. I took notice of Edward's face as he slept. His face wasn't wearing its usual scowl, but seemed totally relaxed and tranquil.

"Hughes, what are you going to do with these pictures?" I asked him.

"Well, I'm going to keep them of course! I'm going to show them to my little girl! But you can keep that one. You need someone to gush over too. You can brag to the entire Eastern Headquarters about how adorable you _son_ is!" He exclaimed, with a bright look on his face.

"I am NOT his father, and he is most DEFINITELY not my son!" I yell at him

"Well, keep that picture anyway. If all else fails, you have blackmail material." Hughes says as he walks out of the office.

"Yeah, I suppose so."


End file.
